


Carve You Into Me Like a Scar

by Cakedae



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 04:19:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6500536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cakedae/pseuds/Cakedae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WOULD YOU<br/>DO IF YOU HAD SECONDS TO LIVE?<br/>- ANONYMOUS</p><p> </p><p>What would you do if you had weeks to live? What would you do to survive? Who would you rely on, and would you rely on anyone? In this retelling based on the novel Unwind, we follow four characters who struggle to survive in this cruel, cruel world they were brought up in</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carve You Into Me Like a Scar

One last revolt.

That’s what Jongin wanted. He crawled out of his bed, tugged on boxers and sweatpants, not even bothering with a shirt, and climbed out his window. He remembered when he used to do this, climb this tree. It was back when he was young and adventurous, he realized the tree went straight to his bedroom. And up he climbed. It was an innocent act back then. But not so innocent now.

The cold bit at his bare skin, but he just gritted his teeth. Uncapping the spray paint, he started his art. He covered his mouth a little, but only a little. He enjoyed the fumes. He enjoyed breathing it in, imagining it eat at his lungs, feast on his brain. When he was younger he also huffed it until his nose bled. Now he wouldn’t want to waste it for his art.

He drew the F. Painted the U. Went down to C. K. Y. O. U.

Tossing the can aside, he admired his work. Not the best. But good enough. The big ultimate FUCK YOU boldly stated on the front of his house. Good. But it was good. Beautiful even. He licked his lips as his breath frosted in the air. He really should have grabbed a shirt. He debated climbing back up. He didn’t think this through very much. But time. He didn’t have time. He would think of something later.

Time.

He didn’t even have this much time to think. Sucking in a frozen breath, he turned his back on the house. Maybe now his parents would learn not to talk behind his back. Not that it mattered.

They wouldn’t even see his back again.

 

Ever since he heard his parents discussing what to do with him, Jongin knew he had to develop a plan of escape. What he knew was that it was best to go “underground,” somewhere where the law didn’t touch and where he could hide without worry. The only place he could think of was a stripclub. A brothel.  
For days he had been going there, watching the dancers remove their clothes and auction themselves out to the public. Jongin sat in the back, quietly studying, never bidding or ever speaking, he never even touched a drink or had a snack.

Today though. . .

Today. . .

Swallowing, he walked into the building. It was smoky, filled with smoke and smelling of the now legal weed with undertones of body odor, cologne, and alcohol. The music playing was soft and sensual, and two men were gyrating on stage, half-naked but fully aroused. Jongin stole one quick glance at them and wandered upstairs.  
Someone stopped him in the middle of the stairway. Not thinking, Jongin lamely squeaked, “I want to join.” Then cleared his voice and repeated, “I want to join.”

“Sorry. No can do. We’re full as it is.”

The big man tried to pass him on the stairway, and Jongin tried his best to block him.

“Please! You don’t understand! This is. . .er, this will be my last shot. . .”

“AWOL, huh,” he stated, didn’t ask, using the term for runaway-and-destined unwinds. Jongin just nodded.

“I’ll let you make your case, but if you don’t get in, you don’t get in, and that’s it? Got it?”

“G-Got it. . .”

“Follow me.”

 

“Junmyeon! Visitor!”

A boy turned around and studied Jongin. Stupidly, Jongin blurted out, “Are you the leader?” When he meant to say boss, when he didn’t mean to speak out of turn, and when he also clearly knew he wasn’t the boss.

“Um. No, kid. I just run who’s in charge of joining.”

Kid. He didn’t look much older than Jongin.

“So why do you want to join, kid.”

“He’s an AWOL, sir,” the other man threw in before Jongin could speak.

“AWOL, huh? Why don’t we just turn you in?”

Sweat started to collect on the back of his neck, his mind racing. “Uh. . .I would be the best dancer this place would have.”

Cocky.

And.

Stupid.

Junmyeon’s eyebrows shot up. “Really now?”

“I’d like to see that,” scoffed the man behind Jongin.

“Uh-” Jongin said.

“Yeah. So would I. So let’s see that.”

Shit. . .

Jongin sucked in a breath and started to dance. There was no music, but luckily he had his own natural rhythm. He looked pretty lame, dancing, he thought. Swaying his hips, grabbing his crotch, trying to be seductive.

And Junmyeon looked away.

No. . .

No. . .

Jongin didn’t even think. It didn’t even occur to him until he was there:

His legs spread out, his ass firmly planted on Junmyeon’s crotch, and his face close to the strippers’ director.


End file.
